Greenleaf & Imladris 22-Bereth:To Have and To Hold

Chapter X: The Face of Evil

Legolas almost howled in frustration as he glared at the blocked up passage. His first impulse was to rush out of the chamber and search for Elrohir. But as he looked about at the burning cocoons, he forced himself to calm down and think rationally.



Elrohir had killed the creature, of that Legolas was certain. At least, she was no longer a threat to him. Knowing the Elf-knight, he was probably already up on his feet and seeking a way out of wherever he had fallen. At least, Legolas fervently hoped so. In the meantime, he had a task to finish. Elrohir would chide him mercilessly if he did not.



He hastened to destroy the last of the encased feeders before finally leaving the chamber to look for his mate.

*******

Elladan and Gimli warily entered the tower wing. Their caution was more than understandable. Just as they had neared the tower, the rear gate of the fortress had suddenly opened and several orcs had entered. That they had not been expecting trouble was apparent from their relaxed manner. Preferring to avoid more confrontations and get to their goal soonest, Elf and Dwarf had melted into the shadows and allowed the goblins to pass them. To their frustration, the creatures lingered by the gate for an exasperatingly long time, bickering pointlessly about some trifling matter or another before finally shuffling on.



The two knew they would have to act quickly. Once the orcs saw the corpse-littered yard, they would hunt for the intruders.



Sure enough, they had just located a side door to the wing when they heard the first screams of outrage. Fortunately, the door was not locked and they were able to slip in quietly. Now they hurriedly crept down the small hall, searching until they discovered a flight of winding stairs. A quick look told them the stairs led up into the turret. They ascended, ever alert for guards.



To their surprise, about two thirds of the way up, they came to an empty chamber. But within the chamber was another flight of stairs. They lifted their eyes to the top of it and saw another landing and atop this flat space was a great stone slab. An altar from the look of it. Above that, arched buttresses held up a curved ceiling. Light streamed in from a series of tall windows just below the ceiling line.



They were just about to climb the stairs when a dozen orcs burst into the chamber. Elladan gritted his teeth as he and Gimli fought off the goblins. They could not afford any more delays. Elbereth only knew what was happening elsewhere. What if Elrohir and Legolas had run into more trouble with the feeders and right there deep in their nest?



When he and the Dwarf had reduced the goblins to half their number, he yelled: “Go, Gimli! I will take care of the rest!”



He plowed straight into the orcs, blade flashing wickedly, while Gimli hurried up the narrow steps, sturdy axe ready.

*******

Elrohir shoved the dead feeder off him and rose to his feet. Eyeing the wreckage before him, he quickly realized there was no way back through the gap in the wall. Sheathing his sword, he looked about and saw he was in a wide, unlit hallway. He began to traverse it, wondering if he was going in the right direction. If he could only locate a window, he would be able to get his bearings.



He came upon an arched open door. Passing through it, he discovered that it led into a large, semi-circular chamber. A chamber that was sparsely furnished but furnished for comfort nonetheless.



There was a hearth to one side, cold and dark for now. And by it were an elegant armchair and a large side table covered with scrolls and books.



On the other end, against a tapestried wall, was a low, wide divan graced by plush cushions. Tall paned windows along one wall opened up the room to daylight. Elrohir walked to them and looked out. The room overlooked the courtyard; he now had an idea where in the keep he was at the moment.



He began to head back for the door when he suddenly sensed a presence approaching. A presence so malignant he was suddenly reminded of the last battle before the Morannon. It was then, as he fought Sauron’s minions on the Dark Lord’s very doorstep, that he had felt his malice at its sharpest. It was the same now, this evil that neared the chamber though not the overwhelming power of Sauron before the One Ring was unmade. He did not know whether to be apprehensive of the former or grateful for the latter.



A shadowy figure appeared in the doorway. With lightning quickness, Elrohir shot an arrow into the darkened form just as it entered the room. It ran through the stranger’s throat with a sickening thud. But to Elrohir’s shock, the figure remained standing. And began to softly laugh.



It came into the dim light, tall as an Elf and graceful as a woman. But if Elrohir expected to be confronted with a female he was in for another shock.



The face that he beheld was that of an Elf. A male Elf. He had long black hair and clear grey elven eyes. And he was comely in the way the Firstborn were comely. But there were some things not right about him.



The light in his eyes was unholy and the pallor of his skin made him seem more akin to the dead than the living. And his form beneath his floor-length robes… Elrohir was certain he had seen a woman’s form earlier but now there was no trace of it. It was almost as if the feminine curves had melted away into the hard planes of a man. And then there was that arrow still protruding from his throat.



“Well done!” the being said, casually plucking the arrow from his throat. “I have been observing you and your friends’ progress thus far. I must commend you. The four of you were more than a match for a whole garrison of orcs. Really, I will have to train the others more thoroughly.” Catching Elrohir’s start of surprise, he smiled indulgently. “Aye, there are more of them encamped on the northern face of this hill. A troop has already arrived though they do not know yet of your mischief. But they will soon enough and when they do... They are poor soldiers but excellent trackers. They will find your companions. And when I am done with you, I will join them and your friends will pay dearly for their daring.” He shook his head with mock regret. “I will concede, however, that was clever of you to burn up my menagerie though hardly pleasing to me. I shall now have to rebuild my collection this spring. How annoying of you to set me back by several months.”



He moved closer, peered speculatively at Elrohir. “But I must say you are a remarkable warrior, pen neth”—young one—“despite your weakening.” At the twin’s quick scowl, he added smoothly, “Oh aye, I can sense the diminishment of your strength and know the reason for it. You encountered one of my pets earlier. Foolish of her to think she could take on an immortal single-handedly. But before you killed her, I tasted something of your unique flavor.” He ran his tongue musingly over his lips as if savoring a delicacy at a banquet. "'Tis unusual. You are obviously an Edhel yet you carry the essence of mortal-kind within you. How passing strange. I had thought the only Peredhel in Middle-earth to be Tuor’s misbegotten half-breed son.”



The voice was relaxed, almost languid, but Elrohir was not deceived. There was a wickedness in his opponent that he had not felt since the downfall of Sauron. It left him chilled and as tense as a drawn bowstring.



Of a sudden, Elrohir realized something. This creature was no omnipotent being as evidenced by his lack of knowledge of the dynastic propagation of the Peredhil through the ages. But even more significant was his ignorance of Elladan and Gimli’s intent. He knew of the burning of the crèche of feeders in the breeding chamber but not of the intent to destroy the object that held him to life.



The others could deal with poorly trained orcs but he did not know what harm Maeglin was capable of wreaking on them nor did he wish for them to find out. He had to keep the Elf here with him as long as he could, keep him occupied, hold his attention to give his brother and Gimli the chance to find and destroy the talisman. He could only pray that the orcs would not discover either their or Legolas’ whereabouts too soon.



He regarded his nemesis with open contempt. “You are Maeglin, son of Aredhel of Gondolin,” he said, his voice hard and accusing.



The cold grey eyes widened with some surprise. Then they tempered into pleased amusement.



“Ah, so you know. How perceptive of you,” Maeglin almost purred. “But truly, I prefer Lomion. ‘Twas the name my mother chose for me, you see.”



“You were thrown from the Caragdûr by Tuor himself. How did you survive it?” Elrohir demanded, playing for as much time as possible.



“A pretty warrior and a brave one, Lomion,” said a woman’s voice from out of nowhere. It was low and husky with an edge of malice. Elrohir stared. The voice seemed to have come from Maeglin himself. “Why not tell him our story? It would be quite amusing to see his reaction.”



Maeglin eyed Elrohir with a different kind of interest. “Aye, Alieth, it would be amusing.” He sauntered nonchalantly to the armchair by the hearth and sank into it. He knew and Elrohir knew that he was in no danger and so he could afford to be incautious.



“Now, where shall I begin my tale?” he mused with a smirk.

********

Legolas had just emerged from the passageway to the breeding chamber when he spotted a large band of goblins entering the courtyard from the rear gate. He cursed under his breath and ducked behind a pillar. He had thought they’d rid the fortress of all of its foul denizens. He watched as the orcs began to howl and quarrel at first sight of their dead comrades. One of them, apparently their leader, began to give orders. A few were dispatched to check the breeding chamber. Another handful entered the main wing.



Legolas eyed the goblins as they disappeared into the keep. He needed to follow them to get to Elrohir. Focusing on their bond, he found he could sense his mate however ephemeral the connection. It beckoned to him, growing strong when he chose the right way, fading when he chose the wrong. And it told him most emphatically that Elrohir was somewhere within the center of the hold.



His breath caught as he saw the remainder of the troop head for the tower wing. Valar! They would find Elladan and Gimli, he thought in consternation. He had to draw some of them away lest they overcome the two. With one last thought for his Elf-knight, he boldly stepped into plain sight and began to loose arrows into the backs of the charging orcs.



It had the desired effect. A third of them turned in fury and dashed back to confront him. Continuing to cut them down as they neared him, Legolas hoped the older twin and his Dwarf friend would be able to deal with the remaining two-thirds that pressed on toward the tower.

*********

While Elladan staved off the orcs below, Gimli reached the top of the stairs. Huffing slightly from the exertion of climbing so high and swiftly, he approached the altar eagerly. He stared at the thing that he was tasked to destroy and sharply sucked in his breath.



There was a clear dome of some glassy substance upon the altar. In its very center lay a square-cut crystal set within a skillfully wrought web of mithril. The crystal was pitch black but its depths gleamed blue and violet in the light. Child of the mountains and the forge, Gimli could appreciate its beauty. But he could not covet it. It looked and felt unholy. It pulsated with unnatural energy; he could literally see tiny bolts of light streak across just below its surface.



Mouth grim, he hoisted his axe to smash the protective dome. He brought it down hard. To his shock, the dome did not give. He brought his axe down again and again, determined to unhouse the talisman. So intent was he that he failed to mark the shadow that emerged from behind the arched buttress above the altar.



Elladan slew the last of his foes and looked up to see how Gimli was doing. The stealthy movement caught his notice and he gasped as it came into the light. He beheld a many legged creature just off to Gimli’s right.



“Gimli, beware! Above you!” he cried out in warning.



The Dwarf glanced up too late. The spider-like creature had thrown itself against him. They both fell to the floor. Before he could react, the monster buried its fangs in his shoulder. Gimli roared as incredible pain seared his shoulder. Almost blacking out from the agony, he desperately pummeled the creature with his fist while with his other hand he scrabbled for the fallen axe.



Below, turmoil broke out anew when a fresh party of orcs converged on Elladan. As he plunged into battle once more, the Elf-lord managed to spare one worried glance at the struggle up high before he was forced to attend to the business of staying alive.

********

Unmindful of the sounds of strife just below his chamber’s windows, Maeglin unfolded a tale of almost unbelievable dimensions. Elrohir listened with mingled horror and fascination, wondering at the never-ending possibilities for the impossible in these Hinter Lands.



“I fell from cruel Caragdûr, cast down by the unworthy hands of a mere mortal. I, Maeglin, kinsman of Turgon, scion of the royal house of Gondolin, brought low by a lowly adan.”—man. “I struck the Amon Gwareth three times before hurtling into the flames below. They left me for dead, believing me vanquished. But what they did not know was that I had in my keeping a gift from Morgoth himself. ‘Twas not only a king’s daughter and a kingdom he promised me in exchange for Gondolin’s ruin. He gifted me with a talisman of his devising. He knew I would need its protection. He was cruel with those who defied him but those who served him well he greatly rewarded.”



“The talisman binds me to this life. So long as it exists, I exist. And that was Morgoth’s intent for me. That I lived to govern the thralls of Gondolin for him with my beloved at my side. What neither he nor I anticipated was that Tuor would throw me down the Amon Gwareth into fire. For the crystal’s power had not yet waxed to its fullest and fire could still harm my body though not destroy it.”



“Burned was I beyond recognition by those accursed flames. I lived but I did not look as one of the living. Any who saw me, Elf or Man, feared me as a monster and hunted me. I fled east and hid in the Ered Luin. I could not afford to damage my body any more than it was already. Only a spell Morgoth had set upon the crystal would allow me to regain what I had lost. But every Elf in Beleriand now knew of my pact with him and, with all set against me, there was little chance of using it. And so I hid in the deeps of the mountains and bided my time, caught between waking and dreaming. Until at last I heard a great tumult and crept out and saw the destruction of the lands west of the Ered Luin in the Great Battle.”



“I rejoiced then. They who had snatched my rightful place from me had paid the ultimate price themselves. The loss of their realms, the end of all they had striven for, the return in humble repentance to Aman. It was revenge of the sweetest kind.”



“But it did not change my circumstances. I was still but a mere shell of my former beauty and strength. Only the talisman kept me from slipping into the Halls of Awaiting. I needed to find a new house for my fëa. An immortal and willing house that would permit me to reshape it into my former countenance and body. That was the one weakness of Morgoth’s spell on the talisman. I could not force my fëa on a new host. Not that he believed I would ever need to and so we gave little thought to it.”



“I left the Ered Luin and made for the unknown lands in the east. Until at last, I came to these mountains, exhausted in body and weary in spirit. I found a cavern wherein to rest and ponder my dismal future. And there the talisman wove a spell yet unknown to me. It put me to sleep. A sleep so deep it lasted for nigh two ages.”



“That was how Alieth found me. She was a Silvan sorceress in the service of Sauron, my Lord Morgoth’s lieutenant. Ah, you are shocked. Did you think all Edhil had set themselves against the Dark Lord? There were some amongst the Wood-elves who cleaved to Sauron and served his cause though none save Alieth survived the War to tell their tales. As I was saying, she found me. Her master had fallen and all his servants had fled the ruins of Mordor and his fortress in Greenwood, fearful of retribution by his foes. Alieth had served him in Dol Guldur and remained there even when he forsook it for Mordor. When the Witch-queen of Lórien destroyed it, she escaped to the north, eluding the Elves, Dwarves and Men who had only lately battled Sauron’s orcs.”



“She came to my cave, drawn by the power of the talisman. And when she beheld my charred body, she did not recoil as others had but recognized me as a kindred spirit. She woke me and heard my tale. She understood how greatly she would benefit from union with me. And so she offered her body to house my spirit.”



“With the power of the talisman, I abandoned my ruined form and moved into hers. It was only then that I discovered the whole of the spell. I could remold my old form using Alieth’s flesh and bones but she could also take her shape if I willed it. And so we could share each other’s knowledge and skills and, wondrously enough, even each other’s pleasures.”



“Alieth is an avid worshipper of the carnal arts, her considerable appetite quite insatiable. But her womanhood worked against her. While she has occasionally indulged herself in female-kind, her preference is for male-flesh. Unfortunately, she could only seduce if she coveted any; she could not ravish. Her union with me changed that. Alieth now knows the joys of taking what she desires whenever and however she desires the taking.”



“You are repulsed! Ah, but you do not comprehend the exquisite pleasure of breaching a man and watching his face change as his ravager’s countenance alters into a woman’s. It is a priceless experience, I assure you! And entertaining as well. Especially when I take over afterwards to ensure his silence.”



“But I digress. With body and strength restored it was a simple matter to take control of the orcs of these mountains. They are simple-minded creatures, really, in dire need of guidance if they hope to flourish anon. They built this fortress for me. It is very much in the likeness of my old abode in Gondolin save for the color of its stone.”



“And now you must be wondering how I came to breed my pets. I credit Alieth with that. ‘Twas something Sauron had started to experiment with when he abided in Dol Guldur. But circumstances caught up with him and he was perforce compelled to abandon it before he perfected the process. When Alieth returned to his tower, she continued his work and eventually achieved what he had not. This knowledge she had planned to present to Sauron soon after. Unfortunately, he was vanquished by a rag-tag army of men and two miserable Halflings ere she could go to him.”



“Thus her hard-won knowledge came to me instead and, as you have seen, we have put it to good use. For with every life that is sucked dry, my strength and invincibility grows ever greater. Despite your lamentable interference, I will soon have a fine band of feeders once more to do my bidding. I now have enough orcs at my beck and call to take on whole villages and towns for my needs. Aye, even the Wood-elves’ realm is no longer beyond my reach. And Alieth and I have learned how to hasten the breeding process as well. Before this year is over, I will become so powerful, Middle-earth will think Sauron a mere fledgling in the arts of sorcery and conquest!”



“And so we have come to the end of my tale. A marvellous one, do you not agree?”



Elrohir drew a deep, calming breath. What Maeglin had recounted to him seemed almost too impossible to believe. Yet he could not deny that the Elf’s narration resonated with the force of its veracity.



He continued to stall for time. “The orc who told me your name claimed you took care of the cold-drakes,” he said. “Is this true?”



Maeglin shrugged. “All too true.”



“How?”



“My, you are an inquisitive one.” Another shrug. “‘Twas a simple task for a sorceress of Alieth’s talent. She simply channeled the sun’s heat and slowly baked them to death.”



Elrohir gasped, appalled by so ruthless an act of destruction. Maeglin laughed. “Oh, you need not worry about a repeat of such a feat. Alieth says it took too much out of her and that she has no desire to try it again.”



“But the talisman? I do not see it on you. Why do you not wear it?”



“There is no need. It is bound to me and I to it. And where I have kept it, it does more good for as it keeps me from death, so does it protect my creations. As you have seen, they do not succumb to injury. Except for their necks!” Maeglin snickered. “It seems there is no such thing as an error-free spell!”



He suddenly looked at Elrohir and smiled. It was a most wicked smile.



Elrohir noted the malevolent glow in the other’s eyes. He licked suddenly dry lips. “You have regaled me with your tale when you could have easily done away with me,” he said. “Why have you spared me thus far?”



Maeglin chuckled. The sound raised Elrohir’s hackles. The older Elf said: “Alieth my dear, I believe ‘tis time for you to answer him.”



He rose from the chair and faced Elrohir. An instant later, to the Elf-knight’s shock, his head seemed to shimmer out of focus and another appeared in its place. And his body’s symmetrical lines altered as well, softening and filling out to become distinctly feminine.



Dark red hair crowned a delicately sculpted oval face from which a pair of almond-shaped aquamarine eyes peered out. A graceful aquiline nose and a generous mouth of richest rose completed the woman’s features. Elrohir stared at a countenance of stunning beauty and allure. And unspeakable malice.



************************

Glossary:

Edhel, Edhil - Elf, Elves

fëa - Quenya for spirit



To be continued…